Slave To Our Emotions
by ScandalousScavos
Summary: "Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions." A set of one-shots based on different emotions. Lynette/Tom.
1. Despair

**A/N: **This story follows random moments of Tom and Lynette's relationship written around a certain emotion. Each chapter will be at a different time in their lives. Enjoyyyy :)

_Despair_

"_Your presence still lingers here, and it won't leave me alone. These wounds won't seem to heal; this pain is just too real. There's just too much that time cannot erase."_

_~.~_

The lights in Fairview Memorial Hospital were dim that night, casting an eerie glow into Lynette Scavo's already gloomy room. Despite the abundance of bright, cheerful flowers filling the countertops, with balloons attached that read, "Get Well Soon", Lynette still felt more morose than she had in her entire life.

She lay awake, wrapped tightly in Tom's arms, snuggled closely in this twin bed that clearly shouldn't be supporting both of their heavy frames, especially since she was pregnant. However, that really didn't faze her, because, in a moment of vulnerability and loss of composure, she begged the doctors to let her husband spend the night. She had needed to be close to him, to feel the strength of his arms encircling her as they slept, the heat of his breath against her skin. Without it, she probably would've gone crazy. The truth of the matter is that, without Tom, she didn't know what she would do right now.

She had spent countless different occasions in that same hospital, staring at the exact same cream-colored ceiling, counting the exact same speckled tiles. Each time had been a number of varying circumstances, some good, some immensely terrible. There was the birth of the twins, Parker, and Penny. In all of her life, holding her children in her arms and watching as they opened their eyes and looked at her for the first time were the only joyous moments she'd ever had in an emergency room.

Then, there was the shoot-out in the supermarket, where she spent the better part of the week recovering from a wound caused by a crazed wife who was hell-bent on revenge. She had dreamt of Mary Alice for the very last time lying in the hospital bed, and it held such significance for her that she couldn't even reflect on it in a bad light. In that moment, she had just felt overwhelming happiness to just be alive.

When she was diagnosed with cancer, she had refused to spend extensive time in the hospital. She came solely to get her chemo treatments, and then she was out of there. Even though that was without a doubt one of the scariest years of her life, the days she'd spent killing time within those four walls with her husband and her friends were hardly what she'd call agonizingly painful.

Then, there were the countless times that she'd had the unfortunate displeasure of being the visitor instead of the patient. When Tom threw out his back (so many times she couldn't even keep track anymore), when he nearly lost his life, when her children did idiotic things like jumping off of a roof, or trying to create a three-person pyramid to get to the cookie jar. To Lynette, those moments had always been more unbearable then being in there herself. She had no control over whether they got well, and she couldn't make their pain go away.

However, this time was different in the worst way.

She ran her hand over her stomach, feeling the comforting nudge of her unborn daughter. She snapped her eyes shut for a moment, trying to force back the tears that were stinging to fall, and choking back the sobs that were threatening to escape.

There should be two of them. She should have a little boy nudging her hand too. He should be right beside his sister, waiting to leave the womb and start his life that would've been extraordinarily miraculous.

But, no. He was gone. Stripped away from her before she got to feel the soft, silky texture of his skin, or hear his piercing cry as he took his first breathe of air, or see the color of his eyes. She'll have to wonder forever what those pivotal moments would've been like, had he survived.

For the rest of her life, she would have to look at her gorgeous baby girl, and think about her brother that never was. And, in the back of her mind, as much as Lynette wanted to tell herself that eventually all of the pain would dissipate and that everything would go back to normal, she couldn't shake this unsettling numb feeling that was penetrating her every sense. She knew nothing would ever be the same now, and on some level, it was her fault.

She knew that she had had no choice but to save Celia. If she hadn't have ran in front of her, the plane would've taken her down. She'd had no choice. That's what she had to keep telling herself, because it justified why she sacrificed her own life, and ultimately and unknowingly her unborn children's.

The anguish was taking her over. She felt it inside her heart, making it heavy and merciless. It was taking over her mind, making every thought excruciating and domineering. She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, and she couldn't even force herself to get out of the bed. All she wanted to do was cry. That wasn't who she was, and that frightened her.

She wanted to talk to Tom. She needed to hear the warmth of his reassuring words wrap around her like a blanket, shielding her from the sorrow that was reality. He was the only thing that had kept her from giving up on everything else in life. He was so much more to her than he'd ever know.

With composure in her voice that she had no idea how she'd managed, she whispered quietly, "Tom, are you awake? Tom? Tom?"

When she got no response, she took a deep breath and punched his shoulder with force that she didn't know she was capable of. He visibly winced and opened his eyes, looking at her with a bewildered expression.

"What the hell was that for, Lynette?"

"You were sleeping."

"Yes, I realize that but was the punch necessary?" he asked with a whine as he looked down at his right shoulder, which was sure to be bruised in no time.

"Well, I called your name like three times and you didn't answer," she began, intentionally avoiding his eyes as she commenced to divulging the real reason she awakened him. "And, I needed you."

In a moment of irrational thought, he sat straight up, hovering over her in a protective stance that actual made her smile. "What's wrong? Is it the baby? Are you in pain?"

"No, it's not the baby, and no I'm not in physical pain," Lynette answered with an exaggerated sigh as she pushed on his chest, watching as he fell back onto the bed with a thud. She could tell he registered the emphasis she put on the word _physical. _"I can't sleep."

Tom nodded his head sympathetically, fully aware of why. He knew, though, that she'd probably never admit that she was grieving, so he would have to do his best with the information she'd offer up. "Well, obviously. It's been a tough night."

"You seemed to be sleeping just fine."

"Yeah, I was until I got punched by my very own little Mike Tyson over here," Tom joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. Sure, his heart was damaged beyond repair too, and all he felt like doing was sleeping and crying, but he had to be strong for Lynette. He was the only thing she had.

He received nothing more than a small grin from his wife as she laid her head back against his injured shoulder. She wanted to tell him everything; to let all of these horrifying emotions spill from her body and be rid of them forever. But, she knew that even if she did do that, she wouldn't be rid of them. It would be temporary relief, if anything.

"Lynette, honey, talk to me," Tom asked, running his hand up and down her spine soothingly. He could feel the grief hanging over their heads like a dark cloud, looming and waiting for the right moment to release its unforgiving streak of lightening to destroy them. If they didn't talk about this, it eventually would do just that.

With a long, drawn out sigh, Lynette pondered her options. She could expose all of her inner heartache and finally be free of the numbness that seemed to be strangling her from the inside out. Or, she could do what she was so great at doing; hiding all of her emotions deep within her, suppressing every miniscule thought that crossed her mind.

"It's okay to break," Tom whispered as he kissed his wife's temple, noticing the hesitation in her body language when asked her to talk to him. He had to push her to the edge, so she'd crack and tell him everything. He hated having to do it, but if he didn't, she would keep everything bottled up until it ate her alive. He had to keep her away from self-destruction.

That was the moment that Lynette began to cry. The tears rolled down her cheeks in long streams, soaking Tom's t-shirt that she was now gripping tightly in her fist. She didn't-or couldn't-speak through the sobs, so he just held her firmly to his chest, trying not to cry himself.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Lynette choked out, her voice so high pitched that Tom could barely understand her. "He's supposed to be okay. He's supposed to be moving around inside of me, and kicking me. He's supposed to be alive."

She was screaming at this point, and, despite his best efforts, he couldn't get her to calm down. She was too far gone, drowning in a river of her own tears. "It's all my fault. I hadn't wanted them, and now, because of my selfishness, one of them is gone forever. I was supposed to protect them, and keep them safe. But, I failed. I failed."

"Hey, none of this is **your **fault," Tom said sternly, trying to keep the sobs he was holding in at bay. He was already crying, and if she saw that he knew it would only stand to make the situation worse. "You saved a little girls life. You should be proud of that."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" Lynette asked, her voice venomously seriously as she looked him dead in the eye for the first time all night. "I **killed **one of our babies. Am I supposed to proud of that?"

"Lynette, you didn't kill anyone," Tom answered, with the same stern voice that she had used. He didn't believe for a minute that any of this was her fault. She did what any admirable human being would've done in that situation, and Lynette was nothing below admirable. "You did what you had to do. Even if you had known this would've been the cost, you still would've done what you did, because you love Gaby, and had anything happened to Celia, it would've killed her."

At that, she went silent. She knew what he had just said to her was all true. She hadn't anticipated that this would happen, but she was certain that if she had, she still would've saved Celia. She couldn't have just stood there and watched as her friends baby got splattered by a runaway plane. But, that wouldn't stop her for regretting that decision for the rest of her life.

"I want to be able to hold him in my arms," Lynette whispered, finally calming down enough to not be screeching in Tom's ear. The tone that was in her voice now, however, hurt him more than the screaming did before. It made his heart ache and his stomach turn.

"I know. I do too," Tom answered, planting a small kiss on the top of her head.

"I want to watch him take his first steps. I want to hear you sing that adorable lullaby to him while he's lying on your chest, and you both fall asleep before you even finish. I want to watch him lye in his crib and stare up at me with that little smile that all my babies have given me," she continued, tears still streaming rapidly down her cheeks. "But, I won't. It hurts so bad and I don't know what to do to make all of this pain go away."

"You might not think that what I'm about to say is true right now, but I swear to you that I will make this pain go away," Tom stated, his voice solid and sure. If he couldn't pull her out of this, than no one on this Earth can.

"I love you so much," Lynette said, leaning up to kiss him.

Usually, when she kissed him, Tom felt passion, lust, longing, and affection coursing through her lips. Tonight, however, he felt something scarily the opposite. He knew that this kiss wasn't technically to show him her love, or anything relatively close to it. This kiss was seeking shelter from all of the mental torture that she was going through.

All he could feel in her lips was despair.

_The second chapter for this is already written, so if you're dying for more, REVIEWWWW. ;)_


	2. Fear

**A/N: **This takes place after the night of the tornado. We never really saw Lynette and Tom dealing with the obvious issues that they'd have coming out of such a tragedy, so here's my take on the situation. Enjoy. :)

_Fear_

"_We cannot banish dangers, but we can banish fears. We must not demean life by standing in awe of death."_

_~.~_

After the shattering effects of a deadly tornado that had ripped through Wisteria Lane earlier that day, the residents were relieved just to be alive. All along the city streets lie the remains of the twister's path of destruction, brutal and unforgiving. Some didn't have houses anymore, and the precious possessions of the citizens were lying carelessly on other people's lawns, while a select few managed to walk away without any damage. However, beyond the material aftermath, emotional devastation was running rampant.

Lynette Scavo stood on her porch, leaning on the railing in front of her for support as she looked out at the carnage. Houses viciously massacred, the pleasant and wholesome nature stripped away to something that she didn't even recognize. The place that she loved, her home, had been savagely torn apart. It was a sight she could hardly bear.

She closed her eyes, and almost immediately her mind transported her back to the moment she saw Mrs. McCluskey's house reduced to nothing more than a pile of wood and debris, with her husband and children buried somewhere beneath the ruble. Her heart had stopped, and everything she had ever believed in crashed and burned in one blood-curdling, desperate cry for help.

During those long moments that she'd waited behind the police caution line, frantically searching the scene for her family, she had realized something that had never once crossed her mind before. She could lose them. Anything could happen, and with the blink of an eye, they could be gone. They were her everything, and there she was completely helpless. The feeling of relief and joy that washed over her when they pulled each and every one of them from the wreckage was a sensation she was sure she'd never forget.

She opened her eyes and scanned the scene one last time before turning away. She couldn't stand to look at something that was once so beautiful, now diminished into nothing more than a reminder of tragedy. Even her home, which used to be the only thing close to perfect in her life, had been broken. Shards of glass from the broken windows scattered the floor and the roof had to be repaired, but other than that, though, they were lucky.

She paced back and forth along the porch, her arms wrapped protectively across her chest as she fought off tears that were threatening to fall as she caught sight of her children through the smashed windows, snuggled together on the floor of their living room fast asleep. They were still covered with dirt, because obviously they had no running water at the moment. They looked so fragile that it made Lynette's heart ache.

She tore her eyes away from them, knowing that if they were kept there for just one more second, she would burst into tears again. She decided to distract herself by making a mental list of everything that needed to be fixed around the house (and how much it would cost) to keep herself distracted.

She was too busy assessing the damage to hear the slight creak of their front door. Tom stepped out, observing Lynette as she paced casually around the porch, looking at every little thing around her, her eyes showing nothing but indifference.

Ever since the disaster that had taken place, Lynette had been acting differently around him, as well as towards their once-quiet home. With him she was normally very comfortable and relaxed, but tonight she had been tense and guarded, almost cold. He understood that she had been terrified that she would lose him and her children, but what he didn't understand was her strange behavior.

"Lynette, are you okay?"

At the sound of his voice, she visibly jumped, but regained her composure almost instantly. She glanced over her shoulder and said, "Yeah, fine."

"Then why don't you come inside and get in bed?" he asked, taking small, cautious steps toward her. He knew how she could be, and if he forced the subject upon her, she'd tiptoe around it or just storm off and they wouldn't accomplish anything. "We've had a long day."

Lynette snorted, and gave a snarky, "Tell me about it."

"Okay, I was going to let the way you're acting slide because of what happened today, but you're being just a _little _unreasonable," Tom bit back, slightly hurt by her reaction. But, when Lynette snapped her head around and looked at him with tears in her eyes, his tone softened. "I mean, you weren't the one stuck underneath a house."

Lynette, for a moment, just stared at him with an incredulous look etched on her face. Then, all of a sudden, she walked towards him and began her tirade. "Oh, does that mean I wasn't affected at all? Does that mean that for every second that you and the kids were in there that my heart didn't break and my mind didn't race with the possibility that all of you could've been dead?"

She was standing directly in front of him now, obviously trying not to cry. He resisted his natural instinct to take her into his arms and hold her until he took all of her pain away, because he sensed she wasn't done with her venting. To be honest, though, he didn't know how much more he could listen to without breaking down himself.

"I spent _all night_ standing behind that damn police tape watching, and waiting, and wondering whether or not the six of you were alright," Lynette hissed, her voice rising with every sentence and a few stray tears spilling over onto her cheeks. "And, I realized that if anything had happened to you guys, I would never, _ever _be able to forgive myself."

"Forgive yourself? What happened today wasn't your fault," Tom stated, his heart breaking as a few more tears made their way down her face, dripping off of her chin, and disappearing through her shirt. "Why would you even think that?"

With a long, frustrated sigh, Lynette backed away from him and sat down onto the porch swing. She rested her elbows on her knees and settled her head in her hands. When she spoke, her voice was muffled and he could barely hear her when she said, "Because I wasn't there."

"Because you weren't there?" Tom asked, moving towards the swing. He was about to sit down when Lynette raised her head to look at him. He'd never seen her eyes hold so much uncertainty. "And, you feel guilty for leaving."

"Of course I do, Tom."

She crossed her arms across her chest protectively as she leaned against the back of the swing, plucking frustratingly at the loose fabric of her jacket as he sat down next to her. For a moment they sat in silence. Unlike a usual night on Wisteria Lane, there were absolutely no sounds to fill the air. Everything was eerily quiet. It made both Lynette and Tom more uncomfortable than they were willing to admit.

"You have _nothing _to feel guilty about," he reassured as he draped an arm behind her back. "You basically saved someone's life."

Instead of responding to Tom's statements, Lynette leaned her head against his chest and began to cry. "Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

Running his fingers in a soothing pattern up and down her spine, he replied, "I know, honey."

"I really don't think you do," Lynette argued, but in a soft, loving tone. "There was this paralyzing fear that ran through me that I may never see your face again; that I would never hold our kids again."

She tilted her head so that she could look into his eyes, framing his face in her hands as she sternly said, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

For the first time all night, Tom understood her strange behavior. She was still scared she was going to lose him. Her eyes spoke volumes about how she was feeling as they glistened with the cheerless sparkle of unshed tears.

Instead of replying to her statement, he leaned forward, connecting his lips with hers in a silent agreement. He couldn't possibly live without her either. Even if he were to die first, he would be alone in whatever afterlife existed beyond their realm of life. But, he didn't particularly want to think about that right now. Not while he had Lynette wrapped in his arms.

The kiss was soft and lingering, ending with a sigh and a hint of a smile from Lynette. "You really know how to make a girl feel better."

With another resounding, somewhat contented sigh, she stretched out on the swing and rested her head on his lap, once again eyeing the shambles that was Wisteria Lane. She thought she had begun to feel at ease about this whole situation, but she knew it was a scar on her heart that she'd have to live with forever.

She already didn't want to ever leave Tom or her children's sides ever again. She knew her nerves would create a problem in time if she didn't nip it in the butt now, before it got out of hand and she was following them around everywhere they went. But, just for tonight, she figured maybe she could succumb to the growing need in the pit of her stomach to be right beside them and hold them all in her arms.

"You wanna go inside and get some sleep?" Tom asked, absentmindedly drawing patterns down the length of her spine.

"Yeah, sure," she answered as she sat upright, stretching her sore muscles before standing. "We can just lay down in the living room with the kids, since the upstairs is out of order."

"You can have the couch," Tom offered as he got to his feet and walked slowly towards the door. "I know you're exhausted."

Lynette contemplated it for a few seconds as she stepped into her home and looked over the back of the couch at her sleeping babies. Porter was lying back to back with Preston, whose arm was laced protectively through Kayla's (the only real bond they've ever shared). Parker was slightly separated from them, with Penny wrapped securely in his arms, snoring ever so lightly. It almost brought a tear to her eyes seeing her boys being so on guard for their sisters.

"Nah, I'll sleep on the floor with all of you guys," she answered as she entwined her fingers through his and led him to the pallet of blankets that aligned their living room floor.

They lay down next to each other and he wrapped her tightly in his arms. She could feel Parker's rhythmic breathing on her back, and, in a weird way, it calmed her. As long as she felt the steady rise and fall of his tiny chest, she knew that he was alive and safe.

She could sense a change in the way she saw her life; the way she saw her family, her friends, her home. She had realized today that she had been taking everything around her for granted, and that another day with all of the people she loved, on the street that she adored, wasn't a guarantee. The thought that she could and would eventually lose them someday terrified her beyond words.

As much as she wished sleep would overcome her and take away the retched pain of her reality, she knew it would be near impossible. She lye there for almost an hour, thinking of every little detail of that day; trying to get the cat out of the basement, saving Mrs. McCluskey, seeing the house completely in shambles, watching with relief and anticipation as they pulled her family from the wreckage, the pain and grief that poured over her when she realized Ida hadn't made it.

It was too much. She wanted to get up and do something, somehow distract herself from the thoughts running uncontrollably through her mind, but at the same time a gut-wrenching, paralyzing terror drenched over her when she thought of leaving Tom and the kids for even a second.

She was going to eventually get over this. That is what she continued to tell herself as she let her eyes flutter shut and she let the familiar scent of her husband comfort and lull her into a slumber that she thought would never come.

She knew that when she awoke in the morning, she would force herself to separate from them, even if it was for just a little while to assure herself that everything would eventually go back to normal. She would worry the entire time, and paranoia would ultimately win over her stubborn need to feel in control of her anxieties.

However, in the still silence of the night, Lynette didn't try to fight it. She fell asleep to the feeling of unreserved fear gripping her insides, and tugging her into the depths of dread that she didn't even fathom was possible.


	3. Enthusiasm

**A/N: **This chapter takes place right after Lynette and Tom meet the girls for the first time when they're moving onto the Lane. This chapter is also way more humorous and happy then my last two. I figured my readers (if I have any) could use a break from the sadness. Enjoy :)

_Enthusiasm _

"_Enthusiasm glows, radiates, permeates and immediately captures everyone's interest."  
>~.~<em>

"So, now that we've officially made an impression on the neighbors as quirky, adorable, and slightly dysfunctional, can we finish unpacking now?" Tom asked, his expression as giddy as a child in a toy store.

With a roll of her eyes and a smile plastered across her face, Lynette nodded and silently walked towards the moving truck. It still housed half of their belongings, and with the distractions that the day had brought upon them, they'd have to work twice as hard to get everything inside and set up before nightfall.

They'd been interrupted from their earlier tasks first by an argument, then by three women who welcomed them to the neighborhood. She was almost positive that she'd came off as one of three things: ridiculous, abrasive, or horrifying. She could tell by the look on that Susan girl's face that she hadn't made a great impact on them. If she hadn't been so fixated that she would be giving birth to twins in less than seven months, she might've cared a little more.

She stepped into the truck and glanced around at the obscene amount of junk that they had managed to accumulate since they had gotten married. A lamp that looked like it belonged to his great-great-grandmother, boxes beyond boxes of books that they knew they'd never read, and clothes that she wouldn't be able to fit into for the foreseeable future. She shook her head in disapproval as Tom bounded up the ramp and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"You realize that about seventy-five percent of everything in this truck is stuff we'll never, ever use?" Lynette pointed out smugly, and she felt Tom shake his head erratically against her shoulder.

"That's not the point. It's _our _stuff, in _our _house," he said excitedly, rubbing his hands against her flat stomach in patterns. "And soon, and it'll be filled with—"

"Screaming, crying, infants that are going to need our constant attention twenty-four seven," Lynette interrupted, sensing where he was going with this. "And, instead of just one like we had originally planned, I'm going to have to keep up with _two _of them."

"More to love," Tom replied, not wanting to spoil his blissful mood. He kissed the top of her head and moved past her to grab a wooden end table. "Now, let's get to work. We've got a lot of stuff to move."

~.~

"I think the couch should go over there," Lynette instructed, pointing to the spot that she had designated for it when Tom first showed her the place. She already had a basic understanding of where she wanted anything and everything to be, but she hadn't divulged this information to him yet. "Then the TV could go in the corner."

"I can't move that sofa by myself," Tom whined, his back already hurting from the exertion of moving the kitchen table, chairs, and desks in by himself. He wiped the sweat that was trickling down his forehead on his shirt, which didn't do much good as it was already thoroughly soaked.

"Well, let me help you then," Lynette offered, but was met with a raised eyebrow.

"I told you you're not doing any heavy lifting, and I meant it."

All day long, the only thing she had been able to carry into the house were light boxes that only contained extremely small items, and it was beginning to grate on her nerves. Besides, she wasn't the kind to handle prohibition well.

"Tom, I'm pregnant, not incapacitated."

"It's still a risk, Lynette," he replied, resting his hand on the doorknob. "I could go ask one of the neighbors. Which of the girls seemed the most normal?"

She thought for a moment, trying to remember which of the girls had come off as 'ordinary'. "Well, Bree was really nice, and seemed very—"

"Perfect?" Tom finished with a smirk. "Did you see her hair? I swear it didn't even move."

With a chuckle that she tried to hide, she said, "Her hair doesn't matter. She has a husband doesn't she? Go over there and ask him to help."

Tom groaned, a sound akin to that of a child who didn't want to do his chores. "But, I don't know these people!"

"Oh my, God, you're such a baby!" Lynette exclaimed as she brushed past him, hitting his hand away from the doorknob and stepping outside onto the porch. Momentarily baffled, Tom just stared after her and watched as she marched down the stairs onto the sidewalk.

She stopped in her tracks once she realized she had absolutely no idea where anyone lived. She looked back at Tom for some sort of direction, but he just grinned at her arrogantly as he leaned against the doorframe.

After giving him one of her signature death glares, she set off down the street searching for anyone who looked strong enough to handle moving a couch. Unfortunately for Lynette, the lane seemed devoid of any testosterone-bearing individuals. She strode down the sidewalk slowly, casually glancing into windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of a man with some muscles.

After walking to the end of the street and coming up empty, she whipped around and crossed the road to investigate the other side of the lane. She was only a few feet into her exploration when she saw a faint silhouette of what looked to be a man in the distance.

She quickly ran into the yard and waved, flashing her widest smile as a sort of enticement. She knew it'd be easier to convince him with a little flirting. "Hey! I'm Lynette Scavo, your new neighbor."

She held out her hand to the gentlemen, who looked considerably older than her, and extremely dark and mysterious. She couldn't help but notice the intense scowl that was etched onto his face. It made her uncomfortable, and she was hoping this exchange could be as brief as possible.

"I'm Paul Young," he answered, taking her hand and shaking it for a moment before dropping it hurriedly. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, well, my husband and I are moving in across the street and we've been lugging things around all day," Lynette began, pointing at the almost-empty moving van parked in front of her home. "And, he has sort of a bad back, and I'm about two months pregnant. We only have one more heavy piece of furniture to move in, and that's the couch. Do you think you could give us a hand?"

With a less-than-ardent "sure", Paul agreed and Lynette led him into their yard. Tom was still leaning against the doorframe, but when he saw that she had actually coerced someone to help, his expression turned from arrogance to relief. "Hey, you found someone!"

Lynette made her way up the porch while Paul waited on the lawn, and stopped right in front of her husband, her eyes lit with victory. "Yes, no thanks to _you_."

With a triumphant grin directed at Tom, she gestured towards the couch in the back of the truck and said, "It's right over there."

Lynette sat outside on the swing sipping lemonade as the boys maneuvered the couch into the living room and set it up in the spot she'd specifically directed. Paul stayed only long enough for that task and to welcome them into the neighborhood, and then sulked back off to his home.

"There's something really creepy about that guy," Tom stated as he sat down beside her, resting his arm casually around her shoulder. His shirt was drenched in sweat, as was the rest of his body. She could really care less though, because at that moment a realization hit her. She sat up abruptly, stopping the swing in its tracks, causing Tom to jolt forward.

"What?" he asked with concern.

"Our house is finished!" Lynette screamed excitedly, the sudden change in her mood causing Tom to chuckle. "We are officially moved in!"

She hopped off of the swing, grabbing Tom's hand in the process and dragging him to the door. She stood in front of him, her hand holding his as she looked back into his eyes. "We finally have a home."

For the first time all day, he could see a sparkle of delight and eagerness in her eyes. With the hand that wasn't currently occupied, she gripped the doorknob and turned it slowly. "You ready to see our completed home?"

At the sound of girly playfulness in her voice, he grinned and nodded, wrapping his free hand around her waist as she led him into the dark living room. She reached to her left and switched on the lamp. Light illuminated the house, and the euphoria that swept over as she looked around her was overwhelming. It was everything she had envisioned for a home and, much, much more. The perfection almost brought a tear to her eye.

"What do you think?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder as she laid her head against his chest with a resounding sigh. "Is it everything you ever wanted?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned to face him, her eyes glistening with joy as she leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers. The kiss was deliberate and gentle, each and every fiber of her being lighting on fire as he wrapped his arms around her. His fingertips splayed open in-between her shoulder blades, holding her firmly to his body.

Much to Tom's dismay, Lynette pulled away from him unexpectedly, resting her forehead against his as she whispered, "No, it's not."

Taken completely aback by her statement, he backed away from her in shock. His eyes widened and he stared at his wife in hurt astonishment as he noticed a sly grin spread across her face. He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could come out, she placed a finger to his lips and quickly silenced him.

"No, it's not everything I ever wanted," Lynette said slowly, her eyes locked with his. "It's much, much more."

~.~

Night was falling on Wisteria Lane as Susan Mayer gloomily slumped to the trash can, carrying a hefty bag that dragged on the ground behind her. Karl was working late for the fourth time this week, and she was beginning to feel extremely neglected.

She was alone so much now, it was often hard to bear. With a small child around the house, and never truly having any help with anything from her husband, Susan felt deflated. She felt that her dream of a happy, perfect life with a wonderful family was very rapidly slipping from her grasp. Especially since she had found a tube of lipstick that was most definitely not her shade in the pocket of his jacket.

When she reached the end of the driveway, she glanced to her left and caught sight of her new neighbors, the Scavo's. When she had first seen them, they'd been fighting. The wife seemed instantly frightening, but the husband seemed adorable. What was most astonishing, however, was how infatuated he was by Lynette, and how smitten she seemed to be with him. She thought it was refreshing to see a man who made the effort to actually be affectionate and caring to his bride.

At this very moment, that's exactly what was happening. As they walked out of their front door, hand-in-hand, the smiles on their faces were impossible to miss. Tom's eyes were practically glowing as they sprinted to the van and shut the door, officially ending their unpacking. Susan heard a squeal that she didn't even think Lynette was capable of before Tom lifted her off of the ground, spinning her in a few hazardous circles before crashing his lips to hers. The kiss lingered for a few moments, becoming extremely heated, given their current surroundings.

Susan didn't mind one bit. She continued watching, forgetting all about the trash in her hand as Tom carried Lynette through the yard and onto the porch, looking lovingly into her eyes the entire time. Susan grinned like a schoolgirl, her heart soaring as she watched these two people so obviously in love that they couldn't fathom keeping their hands to themselves. For someone who was gradually losing the sparks in her own relationship, it was nice to know that a pure love like this still exists.

Beginning to feel like she was intruding on a private moment, Susan threw her trash into the dumpster and began her walk back into the house. She snuck one last peek at the couple that had made her night a little brighter. Maybe, just maybe, her happily ever after would come someday.

~.~

"Andrew, Danielle, bring me the dishes please," Bree requested as she slipped on her rubber gloves. Dinner had been retched and difficult to get through, what with her children at odds and her husband happily passive, as usual. If she didn't have so much work, she would be perfectly content to take a large sleeping pill and forget the world.

But, the duties of a housewife are never done.

So, after her children begrudgingly brought her the china from the table, she began her nightly chores. She scrubbed and washed each piece of silverware individually, making sure each gleamed and shined like it had never been used before.

When the job was completely finished, she pulled the plug and stood as the water drained from the sink. As she was shedding her gloves, she happened to catch a glimpse outside the window at her new neighbors. They were cuddled closely on their front porch swing, going at it like a couple of teenagers for the whole world to see. That kind of public display usually made Bree sick at her stomach, but something about tonight was different.

She watched as Tom ran his fingers through Lynette's hair, pulling her in deeper for a kiss that already looked to be suffocating them both. She noticed that they rarely pulled apart for air, and in the few sparing moments that they did, his lips would immediately take residence on her jaw, her neck, pretty much anywhere there was exposed skin.

Uncharacteristically, Bree found herself entranced by the couple in front of her. In normal instances, she would find this gawking intrusion of privacy repulsive, but something was oddly captivating about what was going on across the street.

She was so engrossed in fact that she didn't notice the slight creak of her kitchen door. Rex walked in, a smile playing on his lips when he saw his wife openly spying on the newest additions to Wisteria Lane. He couldn't believe Miss Manners was breaking one of her own rules.

To capture his wife's attention, he sauntered behind her, brought his lips dangerously close to her ear and whispered, "See anything interesting?"

With a start, Bree tore her eyes away from the scene and whipped around. She was greeted by her husband, a cocky smirk plastered on his face as he watched her cheeks turn a dark shade of red. Her normal posed façade faded for a moment as she collected herself, but almost instantly she regained composure.

"Who were you just staring at?" Rex asked, gesturing his head toward the window.

"Oh, I was just getting a good look at the Scavo's," she answered with a grin.

Rex craned his neck to look around Bree, and saw the new neighbors, who were now fully horizontal on their porch swing. He let out a boisterous laugh and said, "Yeah, you got a good look alright."

The embarrassment and mortification of her actions was evident on her face, but for some reason, she couldn't seem to shake the image of them from her mind. She supposed that it could be the lack of romance generating in her own marriage.

She missed when she and Rex were newlyweds. Much like the people across the street, the passion was constant. However, in the past couple of years, the flames that had raged between the two of them had dwindled considerably. Now, she'd be lucky if she had a flicker.

Well, she wasn't going to let her husband go to bed without her tonight.

"Are you going to be awake for a while? We could go upstairs and—"

Before Bree could even finish her sentence, Rex cut her off. "Nah, I have to be at the office early tomorrow morning. Besides, don't you have some housework to do?"

And with a quick kiss on her temple and no time to object, he walked out of the kitchen.

Any normal woman would be deterred by such a blatant rejection of one's company. As a matter of fact, had it been under usual circumstances, so would Bree. However, what she had just witnessed going on next door was a reminder for her. What she and Rex had at one point was special and exciting. Thanks to the new residence of the Lane, she was now determined to get it back.

~.~

"Tom, I really, really, really don't think this is safe," Lynette said breathlessly as Tom continued his current attack on the most sensitive spot of her throat.

They had started out sitting side-by-side, engaging in a little harmless make-out session that escalated past expectations. They were now fully horizontal on the swing, Tom's body haphazardly covering hers as he showered her with kisses and tender caresses. The position was less than desirable, but the feeling of his lips trailing down her neck and to the swell of her breasts was enough to make her forget.

"Like I would let you fall," Tom answered incredulously, beginning to undo her blouse. He went excruciatingly slow, flicking each button open individually, his fingers grazing the skin beneath for a moment before moving on to the next one.

Lynette groaned, her frustration evident as she writhed beneath him. "One wrong move and we could both bust our asses."

His fingers still working agonizingly slowly, Tom leaned down towards her ear and whispered, "Well, we'll just have to take it slow then."

"You're killing me," she whimpered as he finally reached the end, popping the last button free. She felt the chilly night air hitting her bare stomach as the wind blew between them, and suddenly she was all too aware that they were outside.

"Tom, we're on a porch swing," Lynette informed him, as if he didn't already know.

"Obviously." Without even giving it a second thought, he began nipping at her neck again, running his hands seductively along the curve of her hip.

"But, what if somebody sees us?" she asked nervously, trying to ignore how amazing his lips felt against her skin.

"Let 'em look. It'll do these people good to see a little action," he answered with a wink, lowering his head to place butterfly kisses against her stomach.

For a short, fleeting moment, Lynette considered protesting. However, as quickly as the thought came, it disappeared. She didn't care what their neighbors thought of them. All that matters was that they were here, at their brand new home, wrapped up in each other.

Besides, if they saw something they didn't like, it was their own fault for looking.


	4. Ambition

**A/N: **Is anyone out there still reading this fic? Lol. If so, this is a little pre-series Tom/Lynette. It takes place before the birth of Penny (obviously). I'm not sure I really like where I ended it, but I felt if I went on it might drag a little. And, I also thought I'd leave a little up to the imagination. Enjoy :)

_Ambition_

"_A man without ambition is dead. A man with ambition but no love is dead. A man with ambition and love for his blessings here on earth is ever so alive."_

_~.~_

"Hey, Tom. It's me…again," Lynette sighed into the phone, placing it haphazardly on her shoulder as she picked up a crying Parker from his crib. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, much like he'd been doing for the past three nights. "I'm having a small crisis, so could you please, please, _please _call me back. Love you."

Without skipping a beat, she placed the phone back down on the charger and settled her son on her hip, rocking and swaying from side-to-side in an effort to calm him down. Tears stained his cheeks and his eyes were beginning to swell and turn a shade of deep red, but it didn't seem to faze him. He continued on and on for the next twenty minutes, sobbing until his breath hitched and his eyes slowly began to close from sheer exhaustion.

When he had finally fallen asleep in her arms, Lynette silently thanked God for the instance of peace. She placed him gingerly in the playpen, wrapping him up in his favorite blanket before quietly tiptoeing up the stairs. She peeked into the twins' room, smiling when she saw that they were still napping. This was the first time all week that they had all been down at the same time.

She crept along the hall to her room, collapsing in an exhausted heap on the bed. She closed her eyes, soaking in the serene silence around her. This hadn't happened in weeks, and she was determined to make the best of it.

She curled up against the pillow, trying not to think about the million and one thing she still had to do today; clean up the chaos and shambles that had taken over her household, fix dinner for the three children that would be up in less than hour (if that), try to get a hold of her husband (who she was rapidly losing her patience with), and somehow manage to keep her sanity.

However, the thoughts in her brain slowly seemed to drift away as her mind went into a haze, and everything around her slipped away. She felt all of the tension in her body float above her, lifting huge weights off of her shoulders as she descended into a perfectly blissful slumber.

~.~

Lynette was just beginning to dream about a hot bath, one with bubbles surrounding her, soft, classical music playing in the background, candles lit all around the tub and no kids running around to interrupt her, when she heard a loud, shrill ringing in her ear.

She jolted upward off of the bed, realizing a little too late that it was the phone.

Praying that it hadn't woken the boys, she bolted down the stairs at lightning speed, almost tripping over a stuffed monkey in the process. She had just made it downstairs and was inches away from the receiver when she heard the piercing cry that she was all too use to.

She groaned before picking up the phone and giving whoever was on the opposite end an annoyed, "Hello?"

"Hey, honey. What's going on?"

His voice surprised her. She hadn't expected to hear from him until close to bedtime for the kids. He was always so busy during the day that he rarely had the luxury of being able to call her when she could actually have a conversation with him.

"Oh, Parker's crying, the twins are most likely awake and destroying whatever was left unattended upstairs, I haven't slept in three days. Nothing new really," Lynette stated, clutching the phone to her shoulder like she'd done before and picking up her hysteric son from the playpen. "Just a rough week."

"I can hear that," Tom answered. "I should be home this weekend."

"This weekend?" Lynette asked incredulously, and a little too loudly. Parker's high pitched screams became deafening. She didn't know how much longer she could take this by herself. "You promised me you'd be home on Wednesday!"

"I'm really sorry sweetie," he began, his voice rising in volume over Parker's screeching. "I might be in the running for that big promotion, and I need to be here. I promise, Friday I'll be home, helping you with the boys."

She rolled her eyes. He said this every single time. He'd give her a day, she'd get her hopes up, and he'd change it. Most of the time, she was able to hide her anger and resentment, but for some reason, it all bubbled over the surface and escaped before she could stop herself.

"Yeah, that's what you always say Tom," she hissed into the phone, pacing around her living room angrily. "I'm actually surprised you come home at all anymore. Your job must take precedence over your family now."

Without caring to hear his response, she hung up the phone and threw it onto the sofa. She had wanted to talk to him, to let off some steam that had been built up from almost two weeks alone with three children under the age of five, but she ended up letting out a whole other realm of anger. She hadn't meant to be so harsh, but it was the only way she knew how to react when she was in such a blatant state of frustration.

Lynette had been in somewhat of a daze, thoughts of indignation and bitterness clouding her ability to pay attention to anything else around her. She snapped out of her stupor once she realized that her son was no longer crying. He was still gasping for breath, and stains from the tears that had been flowing down his face were imprinted on his cheeks, but he seemed to have calmed down considerably. She kissed his forehead, and for the first time he actually felt warm.

"You okay little guy?" she asked, concern evident in her voice as she walked upstairs towards the bathroom to retrieve a thermometer. She stuck it under his tongue and waited three minutes before removing it and checking the temperature.

"One-hundred degrees," Lynette recited sadly, looking down at her son, who was now fast asleep against her shoulder. "No wonder you've been fussy all day long."

She didn't hear the phone ringing again until she opened the bathroom door and descended down the hall to the boys' room. She ignored it, making a mental note to call Tom back the moment she got Parker down successfully and figured out what the hell she was going to do now.

This is so not what she needed right now.

~.~

_"Hi, you've reached the Scavo residence. We can't take your call right now, so leave a message and we'll get back to you."_

The sound of their answering machine filled Tom's ear for the third time before he placed the phone back down on the receiver in defeat. He hung his head, shame evident on his face as he stood from his chair and walked over to a nearby window. He looked out over the crowded city of New York, the buildings and skyscrapers stretching endlessly before him, a sight that he had always been fascinated and intrigued by.

Today, however, it was like a huge barrier; a barrier that was separating him from his wife and children, who were miles and miles away. Lynette was furious with him. She had never, to his knowledge, ever hung up on him before. She must have been seriously pissed off to not even want to yell at him like she usually does. He had really fucked up this time.

He glanced behind him at the wall clock, seeing that it was just a little past three. Normally he'd be at his desk, working furiously on the next campaign that his boss threw at him. He thought about all of the different clients he'd met this week, all of the colors and slogans and designs that they'd made him sit through when he could blatantly see that it was all wrong and that he'd have to start from scratch as soon as they gave him the go ahead. It was a mundane routine, one that he had found a strange, comforting solace in for the past few years.

He had a passion for his job; one that he thought he'd never have. He chose to major in this profession under pressure, and he'd found that he was surprisingly good at it. He had a knack for something he didn't know could be so rewarding. What was even better about it was that he actually enjoyed his work. But, the choice to join this field wasn't just a lucky pick.

Tom had always felt fate was on his side. If he had never joined advertising, he would've never met Lynette. He had always felt like the whole thing was destiny, and that every decision he had ever made up until that point had led him there to her. He would never forget the first time he had seen her in the elevator. She looked so nervous and uneasy, but still held that unmistakable quality of control and poise that attracted him to her in the first place. She was a perfect contradiction. He knew right then and there, even though he had been wrapped up in another woman's arms, that he had to have her.

He wanted so badly to continue staring blankly out at the billions of people flooding the streets below him, but he knew work was far more urgent. Besides, he needed an adequate distraction for the guilt that was racking his brain.

So, he took a seat and began absentmindedly thumbing through the Smith account, wondering how in the world he was going to make something as mundane as laundry detergent seem interesting.

"Scavo!"

Tom glanced up from his papers to see his boss standing in the doorway, an ecstatic grin plastered on his face. "What's up?"

"You're in the running, my friend," he informed Tom happily. "If you land the Smith account, that promotion is as good as yours."

"Are you serious?" he exclaimed, trying his hardest to remain cool and collected. This was the best news he'd heard in weeks, possibly months, and he wasn't about to screw this up. "Thank you, sir."

"No, thank you," his boss responded sincerely, walking towards his desk and extending his hand to Tom. "You've been a great addition to this company. We wouldn't be where we are right now if you hadn't come along."

"I appreciate that."

"You have to be at the meeting this afternoon, or you're out. Four o'clock sharp. Don't be late, and don't screw around," he said firmly. "This is important, and we can't afford any slipups."

"Four o'clock. Got it. I won't let you down sir," Tom said enthusiastically as he shook his bosses hand again. "Thank you so much for this opportunity."

"You've earned it, Scavo."

And, with that, his boss left him alone again to contemplate how in the hell he was going to pull all of this together by four o'clock.

~.~

"What should I do? His fever's gone up to one-hundred and one in the past hour," Lynette cried helplessly into the phone, looking down sadly at the thermometer she held tightly in her hand.

"Honey, just calm down. Have you called Tom yet?" Mary Alice asked calmly, trying to soothe her hysterical friend.

Lynette had called her almost twenty minutes ago now in complete shambles, worried sick about Parker. The relaxed tone of Mary Alice's voice reassured her a bit, pacifying her anxiety for at least a few moments before it all resurfaced and threatened her hold on rationality.

"No. He's at work, so he probably wouldn't want to be bothered," she answered bitterly, a snap of resentment buried underneath her words.

"That's just silly. You know he would take the call and fly right home."

Lynette rolled her eyes. All of her friends saw Tom as the perfect husband and father who could do no wrong. Sure, they were right on some level. When she was pregnant, he was present at every doctor's appointment, helped her during birthing class, went out at midnight when she had some weird, unexplained cravings. But, where did he magically disappear to after the birth? Oh, that's right. He went back to work and she was left to raise three small boys alone until he came back.

"I doubt that."

"Stop being so stubborn. I can tell by the tone in your voice that you guys had another fight, but your child is sick. He has a right to know, Lynnie."

Unfortunately, Mary Alice was right. She was _always _right in situations like this. "I know. As soon as I check on Parker, I'll call him. I'm probably going to have to take him to the emergency room."

"Well, bring the twins over here if you do. No need subjecting them to sickness too," she offered, much to Lynette's relief. The one thing that she had been dreading about an emergency room visit was lugging the three of them, and having to keep a vigilant eye on the twins. She knew they would've been chaotic within seconds of walking through the door.

"Mary Alice, you're a Godsend," Lynette exclaimed honestly. Without her, today would be a worse hell then it already was. "I'll never be able to thank you for this."

"Just a large bottle of wine and a girl's night in the near future would be thanks enough for me," she responded. "Now, go call your husband."

Reluctantly, she hung up with Mary Alice and began dialing the number to Tom's New York office. He flew there so frequently that the company had decided a personal office was necessary. Unfortunately for Lynette, the day they gave him a new office was the day that he began traveling more and more. He had only been home fifteen days out of this month. She really hated to admit that she couldn't handle things on her own, but it was rapidly escalating to the point where she would resort to begging to get a few minutes of refuge from the insanity that plagued her.

"Tom Scavo's office. How may I help you?"

"Yes, I'm his wife. Is he available?" she asked, a hint of urgency in her voice that the secretary didn't seem to pick up on, considering she took five minutes to respond.

"No, mam, I'm sorry. Mr. Scavo is in a very important meeting right now and doesn't want to be disturbed," she answered.

Lynette had to take a few deep breaths before speaking again, for fear that she would say something she would regret. "Well, could you get him for me anyway? It's really important."

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. Boss's orders."

"Listen, lady," she hissed, not bothering to hold back her temper as the words left her mouth. "My son has is sick, and my husband needs to know about it. I'm walking on thin ice here, and I'm _not _in the mood for an attitude. If you don't want me to get on a plane, fly to New York and personally kick your ass, I suggest you get Tom. Now."

Without hesitation, the secretary answered, "One moment please."

~.~

Tom ran into the room quickly, reading all of his materials for this pivotal meeting. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, just like it was every other time that he had a big presentation. He loathed it, but at the exact same time the feeling exhilarated him. He was so ready for this. He needed to land this account, for no other reason than to get that promotion and give Lynette everything she deserved.

With determination fueling him, he began speaking. He went slide after slide, surveying everyone's face. _So far, so good._

"And now, I present to you—"

"Excuse me, Mr. Scavo?"

His body froze. He looked toward the door and gave his secretary an irritated, warning glare. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "Didn't I tell you I was in an important meeting and not to disturb me with anything?"

"I know, sir, but your wife is on the phone and she _insists_ it's urgent."

With a groan, he looked towards his client, his eyes pleading. "Mr. Smith, would you excuse me for just a moment?"

His client unwillingly nodded, leaving Tom with the obvious impression that he had better make this fast. He ran down the hallway and into his office, yanking the phone off of the receiver. "Hey. What do you need, honey?"

"Parker's sick," Lynette answered, at this point exhausted and fed up with the exchanges. She wanted to get this call over with, because she was almost certain, by the rushed tone of his voice, that there was no way he was coming home. "I'm going to have to take him to the emergency room. I just thought you should know."

And, just like that, the worry and fear that he felt going into that meeting transferred over to his son. He sat down in his chair, no longer caring whether his client got pissed off or not. "Why? What's wrong with him?"

"He's been throwing up, and he has a really high fever," Lynette informed him, concern evident in her voice. "I don't know what it could be."

"Do you need me there?" he asked with a bit of hesitance, which his wife immediately picked up on.

"Would it matter if I did?" she answered challengingly, knowing that this wasn't necessarily the time for a fight, but angry enough not to care.

"Of course it would matter," he retaliated. "I would be there in a second if it was something serious."

"That's exactly my point Tom. You'd only be here if he was about to die," Lynette hissed in a whisper, trying not to yell. Any extra stress on Parker wouldn't be in their best interest.

"Hey, you know that isn't true!" he fired back, his voice rising in volume. "I would do anything for you and the boys."  
>"Really? Then why are you there instead of here?"<p>

It felt like she had plunged a knife into his chest. "Well, what do you want me to do? Quit my job? Do you not want to have any money, a house to live in, a car to drive?"

"Right now, all I care about is the health of our son. Go back to work. I know that's where you really want to be."

And, just like that, she was gone again. A blaring dial tone filled his ear. He hung up the phone and sat back in his chair, perplexed by what had just transpired. He thought things were going better than this. He knew Lynette hated his schedule, but he didn't know she felt this strongly. How could he be such an idiot?

He wanted to forget about all of this. He wanted to go in there, knock that presentation out of the park, and get that promotion. But, more than that, he wanted to jump on a plane, fly home, and be there for his wife and his son. He had a decision to make, and despite what some may think, it wasn't an easy one.

If he walked out of the door right now, he could kiss everything he's worked so hard for goodbye. But, if he didn't, it could be the proverbial nail in his coffin when it comes to dealing with Lynette. He knew she was sitting home, smugly waiting for him to either walk through that door, or call and apologize for being the worst husband on the face of the planet.

Eventually, though, he had to make up his mind. He stood from his chair, and with a heavy heart he began walking back towards the conference room.

~.~

"Don't worry, he's going to be fine," the nurse said, a resounding sigh emanating from Lynette as she laid Parker in a crib in the corner of their hospital room. "Just a virus. But, we're still going to keep him overnight for observation."

"Thank you so much," she answered with gratitude, leaning on the side of the crib and brushing Parker's cheek with her fingers. "I'm just glad he's alright."

"There's a bed over there for you," the nurse informed, "and your husband, if he shows up."

_Yeah, that'll happen, _Lynette thought with a scoff as the nurse walked out of the room.

With Parker seemingly at ease, she found time to lie down on the bed across the room. She stared at the bland pattern of black and white tiles on the ceiling above her and wondered how her life had resorted to this; waiting alone in a hospital while her husband was off making some ridiculous business deal. She wondered when his work had become his first priority over his family.

But, for now, she didn't want to worry about him at all. She turned over to face the wall, which was painted with various caricatures, surely meant to cheer up the children who occupied the rooms on the pediatrics floor. In all reality, it just made Lynette uneasy. She continued staring at it until she spotted a boy and girl, holding hands and lazily lying in a tuft of grass, flying a kite. Why couldn't her relationship be that easy?

She looked at it for only a second, closing her eyes quickly when she felt the overwhelming urge to cry. She wouldn't let his absence and apparent lack of distress over the situation make her a sobbing mess. _It isn't that big of deal. It was just this one time that he didn't come home. It won't happen again._

She could repeat that to herself over and over again for as long as she wanted, but she knew it wasn't true. If he didn't care enough this time, why would he the next time? If anything, his concerns would continue to fade. She had to start coping with that fact. He wasn't always going to be there like he had promised when they were saying their wedding vows. Who knows? He might even decide that he didn't ever want to come back home.

With thoughts of their murky future filling her head, she was surprised when she began to drift. Even as her mind became hazy, though, she was certain that her anxieties would transition into her dreams, leaving her not a single moment of peace, even in sleep.

~.~

Lynette tossed and turned that night, never quite finding a comfortable position in a bed that felt as if its mattress was constructed of metal. It wasn't ideal, but she supposed it was better than being at home in their bed alone.

She glanced towards the clock, realizing that she'd literally slept the whole day. It was well past midnight, and she hadn't heard a word from her husband. Not even the obligatory 'I'm sorry' phone call. What the hell had gotten into him?

She was still facing the wall when the door creaked opened. Assuming it was just the nurse checking on Parker, she decided to ignore it completely and pretend to be asleep. She didn't particularly feel like dealing with any unnecessary human contact.

She listened to the footsteps as they crossed the room quietly, obviously trying not to wake her up. But, to her surprise, the footsteps stopped next to her bed, and a masculine frame sat on the edge. She shot up immediately, looking out into the darkness at an unmistakable figure staring back at her.

"Tom," she whispered, resisting the urge to fling herself into his arms and kiss him into oblivion. "What are you doing here?"

He reached a hand towards her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear carefully as he answered, "Did you really think I'd choose work over you and the boys?"

Suddenly she felt horribly guilty. "I—"

"Don't answer that," he interrupted, placing a finger against her lips to stop her. "I know I've been a jackass lately, and first I want to apologize. I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you guys. I know it's been tough on you with me gone all the time, and I really am sorry."

She knew that there were unresolved issues and questions to be answered, but she didn't care. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss; a kiss that poured out every fiber of her soul, leaving every inner feeling raw and exposed. She was positive that he could feel the hurt, the anger, the relief, the paralyzing fear, the uncertainty.

She pulled away slightly, her breath hot on his lips as she whispered, "God, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

"I think I do," he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands and hauling her back against him, their lips connecting again. Even though they had been fighting, and even though there was still a vagueness of doubt hanging between the two of them, he had a compulsive need to be as close to her as physically possible. As if that would bind up the wound that had developed between the two of them.

All too soon, she placed her trembling hands on his chest and pushed away, turning her head towards the wall. He could tell that she was about to cry, and it made his heart break a little. "Lynette, I'm sorry. For everything. I'm here now."

She shook her head, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. In a voice that was weak and shaky, she said, "I know. I know, but I was just—I was scared. I'm still scared."

"Scared of what? That I'm going to leave one day and never come back?"

When the thoughts she'd been having for weeks now finally left his mouth, she couldn't face him. She was ashamed. Ashamed and foolish to have even considered it. But, as silly as it may have been, it was there. She'd have to deal with it eventually, and now was as good a time as any.

With one solitary tear slipping down her cheek, she muttered, "Yes."

He closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. He should've known that this was going through her mind. After what her father did, after what her step-father did. It should have been obvious, but it wasn't. He loathed himself for not noticing what an effect his traveling had on her. It was all his fault that she felt this way, and he wondered just how long this had been going on.

Instead of asking more questions and prolonging this, he simply said, "That will _never _happen. I will always be here for you and the boys."

She didn't look him in the eye. She _couldn't _look him in the eye. Everything he was saying was going straight from her head to her heart. She wanted to believe him. She wanted _so badly _to trust his words. The sad truth was that men said this every day, and only a select few really mean it. How could she tell if he did?

Defying all sensible thoughts in her brain, she asked, "How do you know that? How do you know that you'll feel the same way in a few months, a few years?"

Sighing, and with a hint of laughter, he answered, "Because. Can't you see that I'm crazy about you? God, I feel like I'm back at the beginning. Remember, we had this exact same conversation?"

She nodded, remembering the night vividly. They had made love that night, and were laying her bed in sweaty mess of bodies and blankets when he declared his love for her. She had gotten scared, like she always did. The alarm blared and sounded, warning her that he was beginning to care too much. She tried her damndest to push him away, to get him out of her life before they destroyed one another. But, he refused to leave. He refused to stop loving her.

That was the night that she had told him all about her past. She divulged every torrid secret, every abusive, neglected anecdote. He had sat there, watching as tears streamed down her face (much like right now), and listening as she rambled on for what she assumed would be their last conversation. This was the point in the relationship when most men realized she was too much to handle, and they got out while they still could.

But, Tom had stayed.

"Why can't I just trust you?" she sobbed, furiously trying but failing to keep her volume in check. "You flew back here to be with us, and I'm still making up reasons not to. I don't understand. Why am I so—"

She didn't even have time to finish her sentence. Tom grabbed her and drew her forward into his embrace, stroking the loose strands of blonde hair that hung down over her shoulders. He just held her there for a minute, gently running his fingers through her hair, down her back. He hated that she had to go through this mental torture. He hated her mother, her father, her stepfather, anyone who had inflicted pain on her as a child and left near-irreparable scars on her heart.

"You do trust me," he stated matter-of-factly. "You're just afraid to. You're afraid I'm going to hurt you. But, I'm not. Did you know that the only reason I took this job was so that I could make more money to support _you _and our family? Did you know that the only reason we moved onto the Lane was because I knew it was _your_ dream house? Look at all the things I've done for you. Why would I want to screw all that up?"

Suddenly, something clicked inside of her brain. She leaned back, looking into his eyes as she asked, "Did you give up that promotion to come here?"

Without hesitation, he answered, "Yes."

"You've done all those things…and this…for me?"

"Well, this was more for Parker, but yeah." He grasped her hand, holding it tightly as he asked, "Do you believe me now?"

"I've always believed you. I just didn't know that I did."

She lifted their entwined hands from the bed, pulling them up towards her heart. She kissed his knuckles and sighed. This time, not out of frustration, but contentment. Even if this truce didn't last long, even if they did start fighting again once he went back out to New York or wherever the company sent him, she would have this moment.

"I can't believe you let that promotion go," Lynette said incredulously, trying to deviate to a lighter form of conversation.

"Eh, it's no big deal," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "The campaign sucked anyway. I was pretty sure I was gonna tank."

"You're such a liar," she chuckled.

"Yeah, I am," he admitted, lowering his head to the hollow of her neck and kissing it slowly. "I would've nailed it. But, being here with you is much more satisfying."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So, did everyone like where I ended it? I felt like I shouldn't resolve all of their issues, because they obviously still had quite a few at the beginning of the series. Still a little unsure, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. I have another chapter in the works, and if anyone has any emotion requests, I'd be glad to see if I could work it in. Thanks for reading.


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